Out of Touch
by EllisFever
Summary: Where do you think Clementine got her intelligence? Her father? Follow Diana Marsh as she overcomes her living nightmare, fighting to reunite with someone that she cannot guarantee is even alive still. All she has is hope. Hope, and allies.


O/C; Thanks for taking the time to read my intro! There's plenty more to come! Wanted this to be short and engaging. Stick around and leave some comments when you're done? I'd love the feedback. :) Thanks!

"_I love you, Mom."_

_ "Love you bunches, too, honey bunny. I'll be back by next Friday! It'll come faster than you know it!"_

If I had known that those would have be the last words I'd say to my daughter Clementine before all this shit went down… I don't know, but it would definitely have been different.

_We never should have left her. Why didn't we bring her this time? I can't even remember our reasoning anymore._

Could an eight year-old possibly last in these sorts of circumstances? I was convinced that she was alone when no one answered the phone after I had called. Sandra is one of those talkative, care-free teenagers so there's no doubt that if she were still alive she'd have the phone near her at all times. Clementine, however, is different.

_My beautiful baby girl._

I smiled at myself and closed my eyes. I could feel her soft puff of hair and see her soft, brown eyes. So kind yet knowing simultaneously.

"Diana, hon?" twittered a shrill voice.

I reluctantly pulled away from my sad attempt at closure with my lost child and snapped my eyes open to take in who had interrupted my moment.

"Sorry, Mrs. Blonsky. I was just daydreaming. Is everything alright?"

Cassandra Blonsky's heavily made-up face contorted into a look of irritation before she rolled her green eyes at me. At least, I think they're green. For some strange reason they appear a bit off to me. Probably contacts. Everything else on this woman could be bought at a local dollar store. Her fake personality and sad attempt at an upper-class façade went pretty well with it. Perhaps they were once a muddy brown, and she got tired of them.

Adjusting the scarf done up in her hair, Cassandra scoffed, "Honestly, Dana. Did you not hear a single word I said, darling?" Before I could form a response she trilled on, "I was just asking if you could escort me to the bathroom. You know? Just as girlfriends?"

I couldn't help but furrow my forehead when she proposed the thought that we could just be 'girlfriends'. Lately she's been trying to get on my good side for whatever reason. Perhaps I was the only sane, healthy, tolerating person she could find. Damn my charm and lack of a back-bone.

"I'm sorry, Cassandra. I find myself having difficulty focusing after losing the two most important people in my life in a matter of days." Here I was sounding bitter again. I swear Mrs. Blonsky lured out the inner bitch in me.

Edward. Clementine. A tsunami tide of sorrow crashed over me, threatening to seep from my eyes and consume me in my entirety. Blinking my eyes furiously, I cleared my throat and ebbed the emotions for another moment.

_I'm going to break. I've nothing left. Soon enough…_

Cassandra looked me up and down before I actually understood what she was getting at. The secret communication between two women. Without another word I rose from my lounge chair and fell in behind her lead toward the bathroom. Along the way several army personnel eyed us profusely. I felt trapped. Like a bomb that was foreseen to detonate. It feel like I'd been quarantined my entire life, when in reality only a few weeks. It's psychotic how trapped isolation can make you feel. I was never a claustrophobic person, but the idea of spending another day in this place made me sick.

As we approached the lady's bathroom a familiar face came into sight. Curtis Red was guarding the door. This sad excuse for a man preyed on all the women quarantined in the hospital. Young, old, sick, dead. He frankly didn't give a fuck. Everyone, except for poor Mrs. Blonsky.

"Evening, Diana. What can I do you for?" His smooth, sultry voice sounded abstract against his burly stature and dark skin.

Taking the bait that was clearly intended for me, Mrs. Blonsky curtsied and put on her best flirtatious voice to coo, "We just need to use the little girls room. If you'd move that sweet ass of yours, hon."

_Dear God, who taught this woman how to flirt?_

I brushed Cassandra aside—not before she could toss in a wink and growl, mind you—and said, "May we please use the bathroom?" I felt so ridiculous asking for permission, but rules were rules. And again, back-boneless woman here.

Curtis gave me a disgusting once over and bit his lip. Ever since my husband passed he believes that I'm up for grabs. Little does he know I'd rather die a widow than live married to him. I'm a thirty-eight year-old mother, not a whore.

"Hey, hey. Now what's your rush? It's been so long since we last chatted, Diana." Curtis grinned and grabbed my hand for a kiss. But I curtly pulled it away and wiped it off as if I'd been touching something filthy. Mrs. Blonsky, however, waltzed in front of my and 'presented' her own manicured hand. Which he begrudgingly took and simply patted.

"Guess I haven't been in the mood to use the bathroom lately." That was a lie. I'm a pee maniac, I have a bad bladder. But I can't stand going to the bathroom when I know Curtis is just outside the door. Or at least is _supposed _to be outside.

Curtis' eyes widened in mock interest then slid away from the entrance, allowing Cassandra and me to pass. As we entered, Cassandra felt it was necessary to give Curtis a firm slap on the ass.

I stood before the three-panel mirror and sighed at what stared back at me. My pink blouse of floral pattern was missing buttons and stained with God knows what, and my hair was tied back into a loose bun. My face was tainted with lack of rest and stress, and don't get me started on my nails. Noticing Mrs. Blonsky pulling at the numerous bracelets upon her thin wrist, I began to fiddle with my blouse.

_Wish we wouldn't have left our luggage at the hotel. Then again who could anticipate our separation from the rest of the human race._

"They say there're more of those awful things running around." Sighed Mrs. Blonsky, obviously giving up on her bracelets.

"It's spreading like wildfire." I couldn't help but think back to my little Clementine caught in such a hopeless situation. Cassandra pulled me into the nearest stall before I could get lost in my paranoia.

She gripped my arm and whispered, "We gotta leave this place, Diana. Ray's been saying that canning us up in here'll only lead to all of us getting infected. Think about it, hon! If one apple's bad, so's the whole barrel!" Ray was her big-wig husband that funded all of the fake things that made up this fake woman.

Shrugging off her grip I tried to reason, "Mrs. Blonsky, don't be ridiculous. Would you rather be in here where there are guns and it's safe? Or out there, where God knows what satanic things are happening?" The way the army guards spoke it sounded as if hell itself had fallen upon the mortal world.

The woman blinked at me like I'd said something completely irrelevant before shaking her head and saying, "I don't know 'bout you, but _anything_ is better than social confinement."

"We're being quarantin—"

"I don't care! What's the diff!?" Remembering her volume, she fell to a hushed whisper and said, "Ray has a little… a little set-up with two guards that are willing to let us escape. They don't plan on hanging around either. And I wanted you to come with us, hon. You can stay with us…"

As she pattered on my mind began to wander. Escape? Is that even possible? I'm not much of a survivor, it'd be outrageous to try and brave the outside. Even if _that_ was accomplished, I couldn't just sit around Mrs. Blonsky's home.

_I have to find Clementine._

Silence fell between us as I attempted to swallow all of this information. Cassandra opened her mouth as if to add some deal breaker, but was drowned out by a sharp… blood-curdling scream.


End file.
